


Streamers and Papers Piling Up On The Ground

by FireflysLove



Series: Maybe Baby [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Female Steve Rogers, First Time, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderbending, Sarah Rogers is a saint, Weddings, is married to one Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-15 05:59:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2218428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireflysLove/pseuds/FireflysLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-shots, drabbles, flotsam, jetsam. 'Maybe Baby' stories that don't fit elsewhere.<br/>Chapter 1: Steve and Bucky's wedding. (From hell).<br/>Chapter 2: Steve and Bucky do the do for the first time.<br/>Chapter 3: A Deleted Scene from Chapter 9 of Better In White<br/>Chapter 4: How Steve and Bucky Met</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crisis

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe Baby. That one with lady Steve, married to Bucky. Here's related stories.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky have the wedding from hell. There are no waves of cats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two. Dammit, man. Talk about taking over my life.

Stephanie Georgia Rogers was a busy young woman. She was getting married in three days.

And the last thing she needed was what had happened an hour ago.

Her dress had caught on _fire._ She was not even sure how that had happened.

Unfortunately, the dress was a total loss. (And even more unfortunately, it had cost her nearly a month’s worth of commissions to buy it in the first place.) She had thrown it in a bucket of mop water, but there was nothing that could be done for the charred skirt. If she wore it out now, she’d be called some things she didn’t care to repeat. Besides, it wasn’t something she wanted a priest to see.

So she went to her mother. Sarah Rogers, although sick, was still completely invested in her only daughter’s wedding.

“Mom?” she called tentatively up the stairs.

“Yes, Steve?” Sarah called back.

“There’s been a little problem…” Steve said nervously.

“What did you do?” Sarah sighed.

“Set my dress on fire,” Steve said.

Sarah clattered downstairs, took the dress from Steve, and turned it over in her hands.

“Well, the skirt’s gone, but the bodice is in good shape. If we can find a dress with a skirt that rather matches, we can just rip it apart and piece them together. Unless…” Sarah narrowed her eyes and surveyed Steve’s figure.

“Unless what?” Steve said impatiently.

“Unless you want to wear the dress I wore at my wedding. You’re smaller than I was, so we’ll have to take it in a bit, but it could work,” Sarah said, tapping her chin.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen your wedding dress,” Steve said. They didn’t talk about Steve’s father much. Steve privately thought it was because Joseph’s death still weighed on Sarah’s conscience as something she could have prevented.

“Come with me,” Sarah said, leading Steve up the stairs. At the top, they entered Sarah’s small bedroom.

She went to her closet and fished around in the back until she grabbed what she was looking for. Pulling it out almost reverently, she draped it over the footboard of her bed and tugged at the sleeves to get it to lie properly. Steve looked at it and smiled.

“Can I try it on?” she asked.

“Of course you can.”

A few minutes later, Steve observed herself in the rickety mirror that leaned against the wall. The dress was a thing of curves. What had once probably been a very light off-white had darkened over time to a creamy ivory. The neck sat just above Steve’s prominent collarbones, a filmy white material that extended down the full sleeves. The skirt was ankle length on Sarah, so it was floor length on Steve. The bodice was piped below the sheer portion, across the top of Steve’s small bust, and then tapered sharply in to a defined waist. Sarah had pinned it so that the dress hugged Steve’s smaller frame.

“I love it, mom,” Steve said, wiping a tear away from her eye.

“Good. Now run along so I can take it in and hem it,” Sarah said.

That was Steve’s first crisis.

 

* * *

 

The second was the next day. Steve went to the church to confirm the details with Father Peter. She practically sprinted up the stairs, running late for a meeting with a priest wasn’t high on Steve’s list of things to do. She burst into the sanctuary and quickly crossed herself before she trotted across it and rapped on the priest’s door.

No one answered, so she tried again.

“Father Peter’s taken sick, Stephanie,” a voice called from behind her.

Steve whirled to see Father Lucas, the church’s other priest.

“He’s asked me to take care of your wedding, and he’s terribly sorry he can’t perform it himself,” Father Lucas said apologetically.

“It’s all right,” Steve sighed.

“Is there anything specific you would like to request?” Father Lucas asked.

“Only one thing,” Steve said. “I know it’s traditional to finish the vows with ‘’Til death do you part’, but would you be willing to change it to ‘All the days of your life’?”

“I would, as long as you are willing to tell me why you want to change it,” the priest said.

“It’s morbid,” Steve said. “I’ve been surrounded by death and sickness my whole life, and I would rather just not have it in my wedding.”

Father Lucas stared at her for a moment. “Very well. I see no reason not to grant your wishes.”

“Thank you, sir,” Steve said, bobbing her head.

“Until tomorrow, Stephanie,” Father Lucas said, inclining his head.

Steve left the church to the sound of chirping birds. (She might have imagined those. Brooklyn wasn’t exactly known for its budding songbird population). As she walked home, the second crisis hit.

A wolf-whistle sounded from an alley. Normally Steve would have ignored it and continued on her way, but this time it was _actually accompanied_ by “How much, little missy?”

Steve stopped. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, clenching her fists. Finally deciding that the fight wasn’t worth the price of having a black eye on her wedding day, she started to walk off.

A hand descended on her shoulder. “I asked you a question, bird,” the man, who smelled like he hadn’t bathed in months, said close to her face.

“Not interested,” Steve said through gritted teeth.

“Well then, we’ll just have to _make_ you interested,” he said, starting to slide his hand down her chest.

And then he wasn’t standing anymore. He dropped like a stone and stared blankly at his assailant. Another kick to his midsection convinced him that he wanted to get up and flee the scene with his friends.

“Thanks,” Steve said.

“Well, we wouldn’t want you to have any unsightly bruises on your wedding day, now would we?” Bucky drawled.

“It’s a good thing I love you,” Steve said, crinkling her nose.

“That’s why you’re marrying me, isn’t it?” Bucky asked.

“I’m marrying you for your money,” Steve said.

“Of course you are.”

 

* * *

 

Bad things come in threes, they say. And the third thing came on the day of Steve and Bucky’s wedding. They had put Rebecca in charge of the rings. She was Steve’s maid of honor, and since Bucky didn’t really trust his best man (who was Steve’s cousin that Sarah insisted they had to invite because of some arcane family reason), Rebecca seemed like the best choice.

And then she lost the rings.

Steve tried to be relaxed and calm about the whole thing, but she’s really just trying to fight down an asthma attack. Sarah ran interference between Steve and Bucky’s family.

Winifred Barnes put waves into Steve’s hair and was pinning the hat to her head when Sarah returned.

“Steve, I’m so sorry. They’re just nowhere to be found,” Sarah said.

“I’m sure they’ll turn up at some point,” Winifred said supportively.

“It would be nice if they turned up now,” Steve muttered.

“Stephanie,” Sarah warned.

“Sorry, mom,” Steve said.

She rose and did a few twirls to settle the dress.

“You look lovely,” Winifred said.

 

* * *

 

The music swells as Steve walks down the aisle. She is escorted by Sarah. As her hand is placed in Bucky’s, she feels a tremor run through her mother’s body. Sarah fights down a cough.

Steve’s eyes flick up to Bucky’s, and the breath is knocked out of her at the intensity of his blue eyes. She swallows hard.

Father Lucas looks down at both of them. They nod.

“Dearly beloved,” he starts. “We are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join Stephanie Georgia Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes in matrimony, which is commended to be honorable among all men; and therefore is not by any to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, discreetly, advisedly and solemnly. Into this holy estate these two persons present now come to be joined. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

Steve and Bucky glance out into the audience, not expecting anything to happen. A wave of gasps ripples through the audience as a woman rises with her hands held aloft triumphantly. Bucky’s cousin Helen looks around her, and her face immediately reddens.

“Oh, no, not that. I just found the rings,” she says in a tiny voice. Rebecca jumps forward to get them.

“No one else has any objections?” Father Lucas asks. “Good. Now, James, Stephanie, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?”

“I have,” Bucky says.

“Yes,” Steve says.

“Will you honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?” Father Lucas asks.

They both give their assent.

“And will you accept children lovingly from God, and bring them up according to the law of Christ and his Church?”

“We will,” Steve says.

“Since it is your intent to enter into marriage, join your hands and declare your consent before God and Church,” the priest says. Since Steve and Bucky are already holding hands, he continues. “James, do you take Stephanie for your lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, all the days of your life?”

“I do,” Bucky says clearly into the stillness of the room.

“Stephanie, do you take James for your lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, all the days of your life?” he asks.

The entire congregation freezes and stares at the priest in unison.

“Sir, if you’re asking if I take Bucky to be my _husband_ , I most certainly do,” Steve says.

“You may now exchange rings,” the priest says faintly.

“Steve, I give you this ring as a sign of my love and faithfulness. ‘Til the end of the line,” Bucky murmurs. Steve knows this part is mostly for the two of them. He slips the recently retrieved ring onto her shaking finger.

“Bucky, with this ring, I thee wed. Forever and a day,” Steve replies, hand still fluttering with her heart as she slides the ring onto Bucky’s left hand.

There’s something else about God and Jesus and singing and prayer, but Steve just spends most of the time staring into Bucky’s adoring gaze.

Father Lucas’ voice breaks their reverie. “Thanks be to God. You may now kiss the bride.”

With that, Bucky plants a hand on Steve’s back, dips her, and kisses her in a fashion that is perhaps inappropriate for church.

The congregation cheers.

They proceed out of the church and into street.

Bucky looks around and then pulls Steve into a corner where he pulls her against his chest.

“Before the sun, the bricks, and Brooklyn herself, I give myself to you, Steve. Body and soul,” Bucky says solemnly.

“Before God, Brooklyn, and the walls of these buildings, I swear myself to you. Until the end of time,” Steve replies.

They kiss again, and then walk off into the bright shining day of a Brooklyn autumn.


	2. A Lifetime For A Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky do the do. That is literally all that happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because _Better In White_ is kicking my ass, here, have some fuckery.

_Early Winter, 1934._

 

Steve is sick. Again. (Of course, when isn’t she sick?). But this time is different. Sarah Rogers has to take a double shift in the ward to cover the cost of Steve’s medicine, and she has left Bucky in charge of Steve. Tells him to make sure she stays in bed.

He arrives while she’s sleeping, and curls up on the couch with a comic book. Bucky thinks Sarah is a little ridiculous for asking him to watch Steve, she _is_ sixteen years old. But then again, he gets to spend time alone with Steve in a private place, so there’s that.

Steve’s coughing fit draws his attention, and he flits into her room. “Do you need anything?” he asks rather helplessly.

“Glass of water,” Steve chokes out.

Bucky practically sprints to the sink and fumbles to fill a glass. He returns in a heartbeat and hands it to her.

“Thanks,” she mumbles after gulping most of it down around another fit of coughs. “Nothing better to do today than sit around and watch me?”

“Stevie,” Bucky says. “There’s almost nothing I’d rather do than spend time with you.”

Steve snorts. “Your sick friend. Right.”

“Seriously, Steve,” Bucky says, turning his gaze on her. He helps her sit up against the pillows, then slides in beside her, under the covers.

She snuggles into his side and he puts an arm under her shoulder. They talk for a while, about nothing really, then Steve drifts off to sleep against Bucky’s shoulder. He runs his free hand through her hair and sniffs it before he pulls the blanket up a little higher and dozes off himself.

 

* * *

 

Steve wakes to soft snoring in her ear. Bucky’s head has fallen against hers, and his breath ruffles her hair on each exhale. She can finally breathe through her nose again, by some miracle, and she snuffles into his neck.

He wakes with a squeak as her tongue makes its slow way up his hairline, behind his ear.

“Steve, what,” he says breathlessly.

“I thought that was perfectly obvious,” she mutters into his ear.

“Steve, you’re sick,” Bucky says. He doesn’t push her away.

They’ve done this before. Kissing, a few wandering hands. But they had always been interrupted before it had gotten too far. Today, though. Sarah wasn’t supposed to be back until dawn.

Steve tilts her head away from Bucky (who whines despite his verbal protests), the windows show the bluish light of late twilight. “Buck, I feel fine,” Steve says. She’s telling more truth than lie.

Bucky sits up and appraises her with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re definitely less flushed, and your fever’s broken. I’m still not sure doing _that_ is a good idea in your condition,” Bucky says.

“Bucky. I’m _always_ in some kind of condition,” Steve retorts.

“You’ve had better days than this,” Bucky replies.

“Not in recent memory,” Steve says, and she’s not referring to the coughing.

Bucky sighs. “Fine, but so much as a sniffle and I’m going back to the couch,” he warns.

Steve doesn’t think he means it.

 

* * *

 

Bucky lies back down and threads his hands through the golden strands of Steve’s hair. He traces the ridges of her skull with his fingers and she shudders under his ministrations. Slowly, like molasses, they move toward each other. Nipping bites at lips turn into softer caresses. Bucky finds that Steve whimpers adorably when he kisses her _just so_. It suddenly becomes his life’s mission to make her make that noise again.

Minutes pass, or it could be hours, and finally they draw apart for a moment.

Steve is laid out on top of Bucky, hair a complete loss. Bucky has somehow lost his shirt.

Steve crosses her arms under her chest and rests her head on Bucky’s shoulder. “Buck, will you promise not to be offended if I ask you a question?” Steve asks.

“’Bout what, Stevie?” Bucky murmurs.

“You ever gone all the way with a dame before?” Steve stammers out. “I mean, I know you’ve been to dance halls and seen… _stuff_.”

Bucky stiffens beneath her, but he doesn’t make a move to remove her. “Steve, why you gotta ask that?”

“I’ve gotta know, Buck,” Steve murmurs, burying her face in his neck.

Bucky sighs again. “If you _must_ know, no. Tried once. But I couldn’t do it.”

Steve makes an inquisitive noise.

“Because of you, idiot,” Bucky says gently. “Her name was Anna. I’m pretty sure she had a fella, but I wasn’t too worried about that at the time. Had my hand up her skirt when I panicked. I froze and she nearly kicked me in the… well… suffice it to say that didn’t happen. And that was nearly seven months ago.”

Steve shifted to look into Bucky’s eyes. “I love you, James Buchanan Barnes. You know that, right?”

“Stevie, I think everyone in this neighborhood knows that,” Bucky replies with a wry smile. “For what it’s worth, I love you too, Stephanie Georgia Rogers.” His hands return to her hair, and his lips fasten on hers again.

They kiss leisurely for another long while, then Bucky’s hands slide down her back to the hem of her shirt. They slide underneath, and he pulls away to look her in the face. He cocks his head and squeezes his hands. She nods. His hands scrunch in her shirt and pull it over her head. She’s sitting on his chest, knees on either side of him, and she flicks the shirt off into the darkening room. He runs his hands up her sides, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in their wake.

Steve makes that noise again, and her head drops back. Bucky’s breathless as he palms her breasts, and closes his eyes as she shudders over him.

He grabs her by the waist and uses his superior weight to leverage them over so he us underneath him. His hands fly over her body as she grabs his hair and kisses him senseless. Limbs flail and then somehow they’ve both lost the rest of their clothes.

Bucky stops for a moment and stares down into Steve’s eyes. They’re wide, and in the quiet dark of the room, the blown pupils completely swallow the sky color of her irises. He gently traces a thumb across her cheekbone, and her tongue flicks out to glance at his palm.

So that’s how she wants to play it.

He kisses her again, then trails his mouth down her neck, across a collarbone, and ultimately to a nipple. As he nips and teases it with his mouth, his hand tweaks the other one. She squeaks, and he snickers.

“Shut up!” she says with a huff.

“If you insist,” he says, and dives further down.

He pills the blanket up over his head and tosses it up to her shoulders before he gets to work. Her legs fall open and he puts them over his shoulders to get a good grip on her hips. There is almost no light, but what he can see makes him groan with arousal. Steve squeaks again as he trails a finger through the gathering dampness, and then dips it into her. Her back arches and she fights against the hand Bucky pins her with. His hand is soon followed by his mouth and tongue, and he has a hell of a time holding her down as she tries to twist them off the bed.

What started as uncertain strokes soon turn into sure, firm licks. Seemingly suddenly, she screams, and a rush of fluid coats Bucky’s face.

She shoves the blanket down over his head and stares at him with wide eyes. His head is resting on her stomach, and he’s grinning like a maniac.

“That good?” Bucky asks.

“You little shit, get up here,” Steve says, tugging his hair.

He obliges, since he’s pretty sure she can’t move anyway.

 

* * *

 

If it’s at all possible, she’s even more turned on by the taste of herself on Bucky’s mouth than she was before. She cards her fingers through his hair as they kiss again, and then rakes them gently down his back. He shivers. A hand tentatively trails across his hipbone, and hovers just to the left of where he really wants it to be.

She freezes, and stares at a freckle on his shoulder.

“Steve?” Bucky asks. “You okay?”

Steve shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

He frames her face with his hands and brushes his thumbs over her eyelids. “Take a deep breath, Stevie. If you don’t want to do anything else, we’ll stop.”

Steve takes a deep shuddering breath and pushes her face into Bucky’s hand. He spends a long while tracing the lines of her face while she just breathes.

Her hand suddenly flicks just a little bit to the right and Bucky sees stars. He curls up and his forehead presses into Steve’s. The pressure is tentative, but Steve seems to have lost her sense of embarrassment as moments tick by and her rhythm becomes smoother and more intense. Unexpectedly, Bucky’s eyes screw shut and he comes, trying to avoid getting it all over her, but failing miserably.

“Shit, Steve, I’m sorry,” he says.

Steve smiles, “Buck, it’s fine.” She pets his hair, and he tries to suppress the purr.

Minutes later, he raises his head off her chest and looks her in the eyes. “Do you want to…?”

Steve bites her lower lip and nods minutely.

He slips his hands between her thighs again and traces patterns. She makes small noises and breathy moans. They quickly turn into louder noises that prominently feature the words “Oh God”, “Don’t stop”, and his favourite “ _Bucky!_ ”. When he thinks she is good and wound up, Bucky raises himself on one hand above her shoulder and raises his eyebrows.

“You’re sure,” he says.

“Yes! Abso…lutely,” Steve says.

Unfortunately, his hand gives out at that point and he collapses on top of her. She squeaks and then falls into gales of laughter.

“Shut up!” Bucky says, pretending offense.

Steve reaches up and wipes the tears from her eyes. “Bucky, you shut up and do something already.”

Bucky’s never been able to resist Steve’s instructions, so he follows them to the letter. As he fumbles around, and then slowly, so very _slowly_ , begins to thrust into her, she begins to breathe heavily, then rapidly. Bucky freezes. He’s fully inside, but Steve is on the brink of an asthma attack.

“Stevie. You have to breathe for me. Nice and deep and slow,” Bucky coaxes. He tries to get her to match his breathing, and after a few very tense moments, her inhalation rate returns to normal.

Then she grabs his ass and pushes.

“Damned if I’m going to let a little thing like asthma get in the way of this,” Steve growls.

Bucky shakes his head. He knows that if he tried to stop this now, there is a fifty-fifty chance of Steve ripping off the offending appendage. So he takes it slowly. Every move is calculated to keep Steve breathing nice and steady.

They work their way back up to a plateau and Bucky’s mouth takes the opportunity to roam Steve’s body, leaving marks everywhere it goes. He’s pretty sure she’s going to smack him for that later, but the _noises_ she makes.

Heat coils low and tight in his stomach, and when Steve finally, _finally_ clutches at his shoulders and sobs her release into his neck, he lets go, sliding away with her.

He collapses half on top of her.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” he mutters into the pillow.

“Probably almost as much as I love you,” Steve says, hands in his hair again.

Bucky curls up behind her and pulls her spoon fashion into him, then they both drift off into sleep.

His last coherent thought is to pull the blanket up over them so Steve doesn’t catch a chill in the middle of the night.

 

* * *

 

Sarah Rogers returns home in the quiet light of dawn, and opens the door to the apartment she shares with her daughter. The place is relatively as she left it, excepting the jacket and shoes next to the door that belong to Bucky. Which means that he’s still here. She glances at the couch, where a comic book is drunkenly thrown over the arm.

Very quietly, she approaches Steve’s room and opens the door. She sticks her head in and is not surprised at what she finds. An explosion of clothing and two people dead asleep in the bed.

She should probably care that James Barnes is corrupting her daughter. But she doesn’t. Not in a way that would discourage the relationship. Everyone knows Bucky and Steve are destined to be together.

Sarah’s just not sure why they had to do it under her grandmother’s quilt.


	3. Rings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A deleted scene that takes place during the last break of the last chapter of Better In White. Steve, Bucky, Bucky's missing arm, and their rings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because they're adorable.

Steve’s wearing civvies again. Someone managed to find her a dress that not only fit, but that she actually liked. It even has pockets. She’s staying in one of the undamaged lower floors of Stark Tower until such time as something can be arranged. There’s still all the technical details of coming back to life to work out.

But for now, it’s a place to sleep and a place to recuperate. She still has spectacular bruises on her ribs from the shot by the Chitauri that completely missed her shield. They’re healing slower than normal (well, Steve’s normal), but she blames that on the whole space army thing.

She asks the person who handed her the dress, a woman who introduced herself as Pepper, if she can get a hat or something so she can go out in public without being recognized. This had resulted in an hour of Pepper sitting her down and educating her on the finer points of modern headgear and makeup and hair. Which is how Steve ended up walking down the street with what seems like the entire weight of her shield in bobby pins in her hair and a pair of sunglasses the size of dinner plates. Pepper had offered to get a car to take Steve to Bellevue, but Steve wanted to walk.

Manhattan is in ruins, but there are already construction crews clearing away the debris. New York is resilient, Steve knows that. It’s just difficult to see it torn apart like this.

The hospital is insane. Less than 24 hours since an alien attack, and people are still looking for their loved ones. Finally, Steve manages to track down someone.

“I’m looking for James Barnes,” Steve says to the woman, who looks like she hasn’t slept in days.

“Relationship?” the woman says brusquely.

“Wife,” Steve says.

“Name?”

“Stephanie Rogers-Barnes,” Steve says.

The woman starts typing on the tablet in her hand, then looks up in shock at Steve, who has pushed the sunglasses up on her head.

“Yeah,” Steve says.

“I… I…” the woman says.

“Can you just tell me where he is?” Steve asks.

The woman babbles out directions, and Steve leaves her before she can blurt something out to the entire hospital. The elevators are broken, so the stairwells are completely crowded, but eventually Steve makes it to the floor the woman said Bucky was on.

It’s far less crowded up here, but it’s also crawling with security guards. Steve is stopped almost immediately.

“I’m going to need to see some ID, ma’am,” the burly man says.

“I…don’t have any…” Steve says.

“Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he says.

“Listen. I’ve been frozen for sixty-six years, awake for less than two years, and yesterday I fought aliens. Can you just let me see my husband?” Steve says, exasperated.

“You’re Captain America. Right. In that case, I’m the Hulk. Now please, leave, before I have you escorted from the premises,” the guard says.

 _I doubt you could do that,_ Steve thinks. She opens her mouth to say something when the shouting starts.

“Let me go! I need to help! The aliens!” comes from a room just around the corner.

Steve pushes past the guard who makes a cursory attempt to stop her. She’s around the corner in seconds and into the room which does, indeed, contain a flailing Bucky. He has three large nurses and a security guard holding him down, and what remains of his left arm is completely wrapped in white bandages stained scarlet with blood.

“I need to get out of here! Let me go!” he shouts.

Steve pushes the nurse holding Bucky’s right arm out of the way and grabs his face. “Buck,” she says.

Bucky turns wide blue eyes on her. “Steve… what…”

“We won,” Steve says. “The aliens are gone. Well, actually they’re lying in piles in the streets, but they’re dead at least.”

Steve’s hands are suddenly grabbed. Surprised, she doesn’t resist when they’re pulled behind her back.

“It’s time for you to go now,” the security guard from before says.

Steve gets her wrists free easily and turns on him. “No,” she says.

“Steve, what the hell?” Bucky says from behind her.

“Well I don’t exactly have any identification on me,” Steve says.

“I’ll vouch for her,” Bucky says to the security guards.

“Sir,” the guard says. “You were brought in in an ambulance last night completely out of your mind. Excuse us if we don’t believe you.”

Steve pinches the bridge of her nose, then reaches down her dress. She fishes the dogtags out and proffers them to the guard. “That ID enough for you?”

He takes them in hand, reads them, then looks back up at her. “They don’t match,” he says flatly.

“Well of course they don’t, you dolt,” Steve says. “The ones that say ‘Steven’ are the first ones I was issued, and what went on the official record.”

“You really are convinced you’re Captain America aren’t you?” the guard says.

Steve slaps her face with her palm. Pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Buck. You want to go home?” Steve asks.

“That is something I’d enjoy very much,” Bucky says.

“Good. Tony’s offered his own personal doctor,” Steve says.

“Tony?” Bucky asks.

“Stark. When you save the world with a guy, it tends to bring out some familiarity,” Steve says wryly.

“I’d like to be discharged,” Bucky says to the nurses.

They try to argue him out of it.

It doesn’t work.

 

* * *

 

Later, after Tony’s doctor has left, Bucky’s reclining on a chair while Steve attempts to make dinner.

“What happened to it?” he asks.

“What happened to what?” Steve says.

“My arm. The last thing I remember is this searing pain and then I’m waking up in a hospital and people are yelling at me,” Bucky says.

Steve dries her hands on a towel and comes to sit next to Bucky. “I’m sorry about that,” she says. “I heard you scream over the comm, then went up, and I, well, I found your arm. And not the rest of you. Then you croaked, I found you, and you said ‘It’s not that easy to kill me.’ Apparently you’re right.”

Bucky offers his arm to her and she curls into his side. “That makes what, five times now?”

“Something like that,” Steve says. “I don’t know what happened to your arm. It’s probably still up on the roof if you want to go get it…”

Bucky shakes his head. “I’m sure the people cleaning up the Chitauri bodies already got it. It’s not really that useful anymore anyway. I just… well…”

“What?” Steve says.

“It’s my left arm,” Bucky says with a shrug.

“Yes…” Steve says.

“Dammit Stevie,” Bucky says. “Sometimes you’re as thick as a brick. What do people wear on their left hands?”

“Oh,” Steve says. “About that...” She tugs at the chain that holds her dogtags and pulls it out of her collar.

It swings into Bucky’s field of vision, and clinks metallically. Two rounded rectangles in silver, two circles in gold.

 _Two_ circles in gold? One’s significantly bigger than the other. Steve unfastens the clasp of the chain and pulls Bucky’s ring off, cradling it in her palm. Her own slides to land next to it.

Her ring is actually the ring that Bucky had put on her finger that day in 1936. For some reason even though everything had gotten bigger when Steve was serum’d, her fingers had remained the same.

Hands shaking slightly, she offers it to him. He holds out his right hand, well, his only hand, really, and she takes it.

She slides it onto his finger, and says, “James Buchanan Barnes, seventy five years ago, I swore myself before God, Brooklyn, and the walls of those buildings to you. Until the end of time. I’m promising that again, here, today.”

Bucky finds that his eyes are strangely prickly. He takes her ring from her palm and rolls it in his fingers.

“Stevie, before the sun, the bricks, and Brooklyn herself, I gave myself to you. Body and soul. There’s a little bit less of me now, but it’s still all yours,” Bucky says, then puts Steve’s ring back on.

“Good. Because I’ve got promises to keep. And miles to go before I sleep,” Steve says.

“And miles to go before I sleep,” Bucky finishes. “Poetry’s really not your style, Steve.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” Steve says.

Bucky does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve's poetry is the final three lines of Robert Frost's "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening"


	4. Sarah Rogers: Supermom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Girl meets boy. (Actually, boy saves girl from scary 10 year olds, then makes impression on girl's mother.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is literally cotton candy.
> 
> (For reference, Steve's 6 and Bucky's 7. In this universe, Bucky was born March 3, 1917, and Steve July 4, 1918.)

Summer, 1924

 

Sarah Rogers brushes her daughter’s hair behind her ears, and sighs.

Two weeks ago, Stephanie had taken Sarah’s sewing scissors and given herself a haircut. Sarah had come into the girl’s room to find her surrounded by a pile of cornsilk colored strands, bawling. Pulling her daughter into her arms, Sarah had gently evened out the mess into something decent looking. Hoisting Stephanie up to the single mirror in the apartment, she had showed her how the hair showed off her ears. “You look just like the nice ladies down at the dance hall!” she had proclaimed, gesturing to Stephanie’s bob. The tears stopped.

“Now Stephanie,” she says. “I need you to go down to the store and get us a bottle of milk. It’s very important that you go right to the store and come right back home. Do you understand?”

Stephanie nods solemnly. “Yes, mommy,” she says.

“Good. Here’s a quarter. Remember to bring home the change,” Sarah says.

Stephanie looks at the quarter reverently, and then tucks it into her pocket. She quickly trots out the door and out of the building.

The store’s not very far away, but Stephanie knows the alley behind her tenement is much quicker than going around the _four_ buildings. She’s halfway down the alley when she hears the footsteps behind her. She turns to look, and sees a boy following her. Then there’s someone in front of her. The three boys are much older than her, at least ten. And Stephanie’s small for her age. They crowd her into the wall.

“This is our alley,” one says.

“No one gets to go through it without paying.”

“I’d never hit a girl,” the first one says.

“But she’s got boy hair,” the second says.

“We’ll make this easy for you, sunshine,” the third says.

“Just give us your money and we’ll go away.”

“But mommy said it was for milk!” Stephanie says.

“Bbbbbut Mommy said it was for milk!” the second simpers.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” a voice calls from behind them. “Leave the girl alone!”

The boys turn as one to see another boy, younger than them but still older than Stephanie glaring at them, hands curled into fists.

“You gonna pay her toll?” One sneers.

“You get away from her or you’re gonna pay for it!” her would-be rescuer says.

“Boys?” Two says.

 

* * *

 

They’re finally standing on the other side of the alley. Stephanie still has her quarter, but her defender has blood all over his shirt. She offers him her handkerchief in an attempt to staunch the blood pouring freely from his broken nose.

“Thanks,” she says.

“No pwobwem,” the boy says. “I’m James, but ebbybody calls me Bucky.”

“That’s a strange name,” Stephanie says.

“’S fwom my middle name. James Buchanan Bawnes,” Bucky says.

“My name’s Stephanie Georgia Rogers,” Stephanie says.

“Anodder Stephanie?” Bucky groans.

“Is there somethin’ wrong with it?” Stephanie asks, suddenly offended.

“I know fouw Stephanies,” Bucky says. “Can I call you somethin’ else?”

“No one’s ever called me anythin’ but Stephanie,” she says.

“How ’bout Fanny?” Bucky says.

Stephanie only glares at him with all the power of an indignant six year old.

“Well, you’w a giwl, so I guess I can’t call you Steve,” Bucky says.

Stephanie’s forehead crinkles at that. “I like that,” she says. “You should call me Steve.”

“Awight, Stevie,” Bucky says. “Now why was you in that alley anyways?”

“Oh no! Mommy sent me to get milk! She’s gonna be so worried!” Steve cries. “I’ll get the milk, then you come home with me. Mommy’ll set your nose. She fixes hurt people all the time!”

“Awight,” Bucky says.

 

* * *

 

Sarah glances at the clock again. It should only have taken Stephanie 10 minutes, and it’s been nearly 20. The thumping in the hallway calms her heart, and then the door opens. Stephanie comes in, and is followed by a blood-spattered boy nearly a foot taller than her. Stephanie carefully puts the milk in the icebox.

“Stephanie, who is this?” Sarah asks.

“This is Bucky, mommy. He saved me from those three boys in the alley,” Stephanie says.

“You went through the alley?” Sarah asks sternly.

“Yes, mommy,” Stephanie says. “I thought it would be quicker.”

Sarah sighs. “Bucky, is it?” she says to the boy.

“James Buchanan Bawnes, ma’am,” he says.

“Well, James,” Sarah says. “I’m Sarah Rogers. I guess I have you to thank for keeping Stephanie safe. Let’s see what we can do about that nose of yours. Go sit on the chair over there.” She gestures to one of the kitchen chairs. “Stephanie, can you please fill the kettle with water?”

Stephanie carefully takes the metal kettle and fills it from the sink. She puts it on the stove and finds the matchbook. Sarah comes over and lights the stove, then returns to the boy at the table.

“Now this is going to hurt, James,” she warns.

“I know,” he says. “It aweady huwts.”

A few minutes later, she has a bowl of warm water next to him, and she takes away Stephanie’s now-scarlet handkerchief. Gently, she sponges the blood away from his nose with a clean towel, then puts that down.

“You should grab the edges of the chair,” she says.

When his hands are firmly in place, she grasps the end of his nose and tugs. He whimpers, but doesn’t scream. Sarah glances over at Stephanie, who is watching with rapt attention.

“If you’re going to keep this one, you should probably learn how to do this,” Sarah says with a sigh. She knows her daughter, and this boy she’s dragged home isn’t the type that’s easily gotten rid of.

Sarah demonstrates how to gently push the bones of the nose back into place.

“Now, James, blow your nose,” Sarah says. “It’ll hurt, but it will get all the bad stuff out.”

The boy takes the towel and blows into it.

“That’s gross,” he says, looking at it.

“Yes it is,” Sarah says, taking the thing from him. “Now leave your nose alone for at least a week. Stay out of trouble. Do you live around here?”

“Across the street,” the boy says.

“Good. I want to see you in three days to see how that’s healing,” Sarah says. “Now go home and lie down for a while.”

“Thank you,” the boy says, rising from his chair.

“You’re welcome,” Sarah says with a wry smile.

As the boy goes out into the hall, Sarah follows him. Stephanie starts cleaning up the mess that the procedure made.

Sarah squats down so she’s on level with the boy’s face. “James,” she says. “Bucky, I’m going to be honest with you. Stephanie’s a very sick girl. She has a lot of diseases and illnesses that sometimes make it hard for her to do things. But she’s very, very determined. I think you two are going to be very good friends, so just keep that in mind.”

“Does this mean I can come see Steve tomorrow?” the boy says.

“Steve?” Sarah asks, confused.

“Stephanie said I could call her Steve. I know a lot of Stephanies, but no girl Steves,” Bucky says.

“Steve,” Sarah mutters. “Huh.”

“So can I?” Bucky asks.

“Of course, James. Just remember, be careful with that nose,” Sarah says.

“Thank you Mrs. Rogers!” Bucky says, then goes off down the hall.

 _She’s going to marry that boy someday_ , Sarah thinks.

She’s right, of course.

**Author's Note:**

> Visit my sad, messy Tumblr: [Firefly's Love](http://fireflyslove.tumblr.com). Lots of Stucky. It is multifandom.


End file.
